


Heart-Shaped Box

by TheRealSokka



Category: Teenage Bounty Hunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, How They Met, everything post Twin Reveal is technically canon compliant :D, since there's not going to be a Season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealSokka/pseuds/TheRealSokka
Summary: April Stevens is good at compartmentalizing; seperating the parts of her life that don't work together. So good that she barely notices how one of those compartments, reserved for one specific person, begins to take up more and more space in her mind.
Relationships: April Stevens/Sterling Wesley, Blair Wesley & Sterling Wesley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	Heart-Shaped Box

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be completely honest; I didn't expect much when I started up this show. It looked like a bunch of lighthearted, stupid fun to watch without having to turn on my brain too much. 
> 
> Well, it is exactly that, but it has a serious amount of heart as well. And I kind of fell in love. First off, Sterling and Blair. Having a, frankly, awesome sister myself, I'm so happy to finally see a healthy (and appropriately silly) sibling relationship in a TV show. And yes; obviously they are siblings, genetics be damned.
> 
> Then there's April and Sterling. I'm normally terribly oblivious to gay looks, but for once I actually called the two of them right away and couldn't wait for them to move beyond the 'enemies' phase. And once they did - well, I'm now writing a story about them, so that should tell enough about how much I loved it.
> 
> Speaking of: this is something of a 'through the years' story, starting at their first meeting, since I'm a sucker for that. First meeting, for the purposes of this story, is at the start of middle school, since I couldn't find any references to a time before fifth grade in the show. I might have overlooked something though, in which case this is not actually canon-compliant. I hope you have fun reading, anyway.
> 
> Oh, and the title is not related to the Nirwana song.

Considering that April Stevens is the poster child of good Christian education, you would think that she’d feel excited to finally start middle school.

The above statement is not a boast, it’s just an impartial assessment: Her family visits church every Sunday, she prays at least three times a day, and she is friendly and respectful to everyone she meets. Especially her elders, obviously. She’s also routinely top of her class, rarely gets a grade below B+ and was part of literally every school club that her timetable had space for.

She is one of the few people she knows who actually likes school. So finally finishing the year (with perfect grades) and getting upgraded to the next school tier should have felt great. It should have been one of the best days of April’s life. She shouldn’t be feeling this miserable.

Heartache is a bitch. Starting middle school with heartache just sucks.

Next to April, Hannah B. says, “I’m nervous.”

“Everyone is,” April tells her. Normally she would put on her reassuring church-voice, but in her present state it just comes out tired. She chooses to blame it on the stale air in the assembly hall, which is thick with the chatter and body heat of 300+ varyingly nervous teenagers. Every one of them has to feel some amount of trepidation, April tells herself. It’s not exclusive to poster girls of good Christian education who may have spent the majority of last night twisting and turning in their beds, barely getting a few hours’ sleep.

“Really?” Hannah asks, unsure. “Even that tall guy with the nice blazer over there?”

“Yes, Hannah. Even him.”

“Are _you_ nervous?”

“No,” April tells her honestly. _I’m disappointed, I’m tired and I’m pissed; nervousness doesn’t have space._ April truly wishes she could enjoy this day to the extent that it deserves, but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t. There’s just anger. She can barely pin down who she’s more angry at; herself or Sarah.

Sarah. Stupid, pony-tailed, inconsiderate Sarah Manson. Aka April’s best friend for close to two years, aka the girl who came up to her to announce out of the blue that her family was moving to _California_. Sarah Manson who for that reason is not going to show up at Wilmington Middle School today, even though April saved her a seat out of habit before she remembered. April looks at the empty space next to her, at the absence of that bright smile and swinging ponytails, and suddenly her eyes start to sting again. She quickly wipes her sleeve over her face before Hannah B. of all people notices. _Get it together, April!_

It’s honestly fine. Sarah wasn’t her only friend, just the one she spent the most time with. They can still be friends, actually. Friends fight all the time. Sometimes they move half-way across the country, too. April can be the adult about this; she can honour the bible and forgive those who wronged her. It’s not actually Sarah’s fault that her father got a new job in another state. Sarah’s probably just as distraught by it as April is…

But she wasn’t acting like it yesterday. She seemed downright excited. And she should have told April about it sooner. And she could have been a bit more understanding when April got upset. It didn’t have to devolve into a shouting match. But apparently Sarah just couldn’t be more eager to get away from Atlanta and April. Apparently the last two years didn’t mean anything at all.

What’s worse is, April had made plans, and they all included Sarah. They’ve gotten too old for summer camp and they’re too grown-up for sleepovers now, so April had wanted to sign them up for more serious activities like chess club or community service. She even considered staying on as altar girls at their church, solely because Sarah enjoyed it so much, even though April personally doesn’t see the appeal anymore.

She’s handing the pastor her resignation letter first thing on Sunday, she resolves.

“April, we’re middle schoolers now!” Hannah B. tells her excitedly once they filter out of the hall.

“Really,” April retorts sarcastically. It comes out nastier than she intended.

Hannah B.’s face falls and she ducks her head, the way she always does when she realizes someone is making fun of her. She hasn’t reacted that way to April for a long time now, and April feels a sharp sting of guilt. She mutters a quick, “Sorry. Yes, that’s great,” but can’t bring herself to explain to Hannah why she is in such a mood. If she did, she feels like she might start crying. Or worse, swearing.

Okay, this – thing – with Sarah bothers her more than April is willing to admit. She hasn’t caught a word of the principal’s welcoming speech, either. This is so stupid, and completely not worth it. She needs to get a clear head if she doesn’t want to mess up today of all days.

So April does what she has learned to do with this kind of thing: she puts everything having to do with Sarah into a mental box, and then she seals it off from everything else. However she may feel about what happened yesterday, it’s not going to affect how April approaches school. Outside of that box, she is not even going to think about it.

April is good at that: organizing her life into small compartments and firmly separating those that don’t work together. Like her idiotic childhood dream of joining the theatre and the very real demands of school work. Like the concepts of girl-friends and boyfriends. Like ‘love thy neighbour’ and the ugly words her father uses to describe some of their neighbours. Like friends who are worth keeping and Sarah Manson.

Sarah is going in her lower-most compartment now, somewhere far away where April can forget she even exists until she leaves Georgia. And in the meantime, April is going to focus on being the best in school. If Sarah thinks April will waste even one thought on her today or feel the slightest bit guilty, she is dead wrong.

She doesn’t remember much of that first day. It passes in a blur. Nothing that happens really stands out, and contrary to April’s expectations it doesn’t feel all that different than grammar school. She recalls being irritated by the Spanish teacher’s going alphabetically by first names instead of last names. April normally likes being first, but who does that? This is the woman who for the next five years will be teaching her one of the four most spoken languages in the world. That doesn’t bode well.

She also remembers visiting the blackboard and signing up for her clubs, because in almost every one she is the first to do so. As for her classes, none of the teachers do any actual teaching on the first day; it’s just organisational stuff, introducing them to their classmates, and welcomes of varying degrees of enthusiasm. Some of the teachers could stand to act a bit more welcoming, April thinks. Not that she needs any extra motivation or hand-holding to do well in school, but some of her new classmates might.

After school she takes Hannah B. out for chocolate chip ice cream, half because she still feels bad and half to keep intact the only friendship she has left at the moment. She’ll set to making new ones tomorrow, she resolves. Or maybe next week, once she’s had time to assess which of her classmates seem reliable enough. It occurs to April that Hannah B. is her best friend by default now. Which is a somewhat depressing thought.

That evening she logs into her computer to find a new email from Sarah in her inbox. She deletes it without looking at it.

The first proper lesson they have, English, doesn’t come before the next day. April makes a point to raise her hand every time the teacher asks a question. First impressions are critical, after all. The teacher looks sufficiently impressed, making April feel immensely accomplished. Things start to feel a little more like normal.

Following her plan, April proceeds to likewise give it her all in the Sports lesson which comes right after. Not that the coach leaves her or the rest of the class any other choice: he seems to think that the best way of introducing new students to how sports is done in middle school is to have them run laps around the football field until they either reach his absurd standards or drop dead. April doesn’t quite get there, but she is panting heavily by the time the coach finally calls them back. She’s too exhausted to even take pride in the fact that most of her classmates look worse off than she does. To top it off, at that point the lesson is already over, meaning that they don’t even have time to shower before the next group comes in.

With a mental note never to pick any extra activities that this man is in charge of, April makes use of her peach-scented body spray and heads into recess. Upon entering the mess hall, she doesn’t spy Hannah B. at first glance, which honestly suits April fine for the moment. She makes a point of sitting in a remote corner of the mess hall and to place her backpack in the seat next to her, so that nobody can think of interrupting her while she crosses the next item off her self-made schedule: analysing their new English textbook. Though she is still grossly sticky from running and it hurts her concentration a bit, she can at least try to get a head start.

She’s pleased to find that she knows a few things about almost all of the topics they are going to touch on this term. She does need to brush up on her states, though, since the teacher mentioned that there’s going to be a quiz on that at some point during the first quarter. With the help of the book’s appendix (and that Animaniacs song that has been stuck in her head since second grade) she sets to re-memorizing them all. Five minutes later she has reached North Dakota and rakes her brain for what its capital’s name was, when…

"Hi!" a voice says right next to her.

April jumps and nearly drops her book.

She looks up to find that a girl has sat down opposite her – in the corner that April clearly marked out as hers. The first thing that immediately jumps out at April is that the girl is wearing a training shirt and shorts _in the mess hall_ , like some kind of barbarian. She must also be in fifth grade, since she looks April’s height and age. In general, she has written ‘new here’ across her forehead, missing the air of loud superiority that April has observed from the older teens. Her eyes are wide and sky-blue, and her hair is straw blonde – like Sarah’s, the thought jumps unbidden into April’s head. Thank God this girl doesn’t have ponytails. Instead she wears her hair in a waterfall braid that would probably look more impressive if it weren’t so dishevelled. The sight triggers a memory from April; she dimly recalls seeing that braid during the Sports lesson and thinking that it was very impractical.

The girl is looking at her expectantly and April realizes that she hasn’t said anything in response. “Hi,” she echoes, for lack of something wittier. She’s really not on her A-game today.

“Hi. I really like your…” The girl cuts herself off and leans across the table. “Are your reading our textbook?”

“That’s what it’s for,” April confirms warily.

“Yeah, but, like, you’re reading it in recess.” The girl’s eyes go even wider. “Oh, did you forget your novel at home or something?! That sucks; I sometimes forget mine, too. Today I remembered, though. Here, we can share if you like!”

The girl starts rummaging in her backpack. For a second, April is just baffled what she is talking about. Then that bafflement is replaced by surprise that someone besides her apparently _voluntarily_ reads a book that isn’t the bible. Then April takes another wary look at the girl’s shirt and shorts, which are giving off a far too strong community college vibe. She holds up a hand apprehensively. “Thanks, but I don’t think we’re into the same…”

She stops short when a copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ lands on the table in front of her.

The girl beams at her. “The teacher said that we’re reading that later in the term and my mom already spoiled me who gets married to whom. And I know how they inherit the fortune, too. But mom let me borrow her copy so I can read it for myself. I read up to, like, page twelve and it’s actually kind of funny.”

April alternates between staring at her and at the book cover. Naturally she was also aware that this would be their reading matter this term, but it’s only due in a couple of months and her parents didn’t have a copy at home. April’s is only set to arrive in a week. She didn’t expect anyone in her grade to even be fully aware of the novel yet, much less already have it with them.

It’s not every day that April gets out-prepared. Never, actually. She takes in the girl opposite her for a third time, equal parts impressed and annoyed.

Then, belatedly, she becomes aware that she’s again due to say something. She feels her cheeks grow hot. She must look like such an amateur right now.

The blonde, however, doesn’t seem to mind her lack of response and immediately keeps talking: "I mean, we don’t have to read if you don’t want to, of course. We can just talk. Or not, if you’re not into that. Anyway, whew, that was _lesson_ just now, right?! The teacher must've thought we were at least two grades higher or something. I mean, having us run a dozen laps around the field just to start? I used to think track people were all hot and cool, but actually doing it is just hot. And sweaty. It's so gross; I feel like all my pores have been cutting onions..."

"I'm sorry," April interrupts her, "have we met?"

"Oh! Right. I'm Wesley. Sterling Wesley, that is. Not related to Bond, James Bond. I'm new here – obviously, because so are you and everyone else here – and I thought that we...well, I think that I'm..."

"Rambling?" April suggests. She feels a small smile tug at her mouth.

Sterling groans. “Shit, I am aren’t I? I’m sorry, I’m nervous, do you want to be my friend?” she blurts out all in one breath.

“Uh…? I mean…yes?” April is normally better with words, she swears. For a second, she finds herself too surprised to even be apprehensive. However, it doesn’t take long for wariness to resurface and demand to be her foremost emotion again. “Why, though? Do I look like I need a friend? And doesn’t everybody have a clique of friends already?”

“Maybe? Probably? I don’t know.” Sterling tugs a stray hair strand over her ear, suddenly looking shy. “My best friend is my sister, and we spend, like, all our time together. I don’t have much experience with other people. Mom said we had to ‘broaden our social horizons’, so...”

April cocks her head. “And I’m supposed to be that parentally-mandated broadened horizon? I don’t know whether to feel flattered or belittled.”

“Flattered?” Sterling suggests with a hopeful note to her voice.

April laughs. “Yeah, okay. Flattered works.” Oddly enough, she _does_ feel a little bit flattered. She can’t get a solid read on this Sterling, with the other girl’s weirdness and her developing tendency to surprise April, but somehow that is not as annoying as April feels it should be. It certainly doesn’t feel malicious. “I’m April, by the way.”

Does she imagine it, or is that a blush spreading on Sterling’s cheeks? The other girl glances at her feet. “I know. Yours was the first name the teacher read out loud yesterday and I – memorized it? It’s a pretty name. Like Spring; so…sprightly.”

“Thanks.” April is surprised at how steady that comes out, given how her heart rate has just picked up. Why does that weird compliment from this weird girl she barely even knows feel so nice? It shouldn’t. But it does. Why does it do that? April knows this feeling, and it’s dangerous. She should probably…

“Heyyy, Sterl!” a voice comes crashing into April’s fit of nerves. Another girl – lean, brunette and _also_ _wearing training clothes_ – comes up to Sterling and slings an arm around her shoulder as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “How’s the broadening of the horizon going?”

“Well. Kinda good?” Sterling indicates April. “I’ve made a friend.”

“Oh.” The girl’s attention switches to April. She looks her up and down, and April feels uncomfortably like she’s being x-rayed. “Hi. You are?”

“April,” April replies defensively, trying not to stare at how relaxed and how close the two of them are standing together.

“Huh. Weird name.” As if that completely settled the matter, the girl turns her attention back to Sterling. “I’ve met this guy; Thomas, and he’s, like, so chill. I think I can like him. Like, like-like him if you know what I mean.”

Sterling makes a squeaky noise of excitement and grabs her by the shoulders. “Really?! How did you figure it out so quickly?”

“I asked him if he wanted to hang and he said yes within two seconds.”

“Really?!”

“Well, he said ‘sure’. And I said ‘great’, and he also said ‘great’. We get each other, Sterl!”

Sterling sighs dreamily. “Wow, you’re really good at this.”

“You say ‘really’ too much,” April interjects sharply, starting to feel uncomfortably like she’s being third-wheeled here. Like she’s being deprived of that oddly nice feeling before she could even pin down what it was. Like this random girl is stealing something that isn’t even hers yet.

“Really?” Sterling asks, and then clasps a hand over her mouth in horror.

The brunette pulls her hand back down while also pointing a finger at April: “It’s a nice word and she can use it however many times she likes! What are you; some kind of grammar person?” She crinkles her nose: “And why do you smell so fruity?”

April bristles. “It’s called deodorant. You should try it sometime.”

“I prefer natural to fake,” the girl fires back. “If you can’t wear your signs of physical activity like a badge of honour, then…”

She is interrupted by Sterling, who is tugging at her arm insistently. Sterling nods towards April. The other girl shakes her head. They share a weirdly long look. April – who hates being side-lined with a passion – is about to say something when the brunette abruptly turns back towards her. Her eyes narrow threateningly. “Anyway, I’m watching you,” she warns April. Then she throws in a cheerful, “Have fun!” in Sterling’s direction and wanders off.

April looks to Sterling, confused and feeling vaguely insulted. “What was that about?”

“Ah, just Blair being Blair,” Sterling waves it off. “She…doesn’t know you yet.”

“Blair, huh?” April looks after the brunette. “Named for her pleasant voice and charming personality, I assume?”

She’s not prepared for the way Sterling’s cheery expression falls from one second to the next. “Hey, don’t pick on my twin!” she exclaims, suddenly all serious.

“I wasn’t…wait, that’s your _sister_?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” April tries hard to maintain her level of annoyance, but suddenly there is some amount of relief mixing into it as well, which she doesn’t want to analyse where it comes from.

“Yeah, and if you’ve got a problem with her, then…then you’ve got a problem with me!”

“Noted.” April can’t help but grin at Sterling’s attempt at being intimidating, because it doesn’t suit her at all. “I don’t, though. Have a problem with her, that is. Sorry if it came out that way.”

“Good,” Sterling says, and just as quickly her smile is back at full blast. There is something about the way it lights up her entire face, all the way up to her eyes. April is suddenly very glad she is sitting down. Then Sterling once again tugs a bit of hair out of her face and says, “I like it, by the way.”

“What?”

“The peach deodorant. It smells nice.”

“You can share some of mine if you want,” April replies immediately. _Frick, was that too eager?_

“Really?” Sterling blinks, and then she giggles and presses her hand to her lips.

April laughs too, because how can’t she? She nods. “Really. No offense, but both of you need it.”

“Fair,” Sterling decides. With a grateful smile she takes the can that April hands her. However, contrary to what April is expecting, she proceeds to spray not just her armpits but her everything. Shirt, arms, face and all. Of course she immediately has a coughing fit.

By the time she has recovered from it, April has just about recovered from her laughing fit. She manages to take the can back without dropping it, but it’s a close affair. She starts, “That,” she has to giggle and tries again, “that’s not how you’re supposed to use that.”

“Well, duh!” Sterling exclaims, looking extremely flustered. “I just…well, I…thought it’d look cool?”

“It did not.”

“Realized that too, once it was happening.”

April sniffs the air, which will probably retain its fruity smell for hours now. “Anyway, mishaps aside, you’re now vastly improved, don’t you think?”

Sterling smells at her shirt and a dreamy smile takes over her lips. “Yep. Peachy.”

April can’t help mirroring her smile. It’s just impossible not to. There is an air of levity surrounding this girl (her _friend_ ) that seems to be contagious. April doesn’t quite know how she got here, nor where this is going – and a part of her is surprisingly okay with that. So okay that it silences the other part that’s trying to scream _“Stop!”_ and _“You don’t even know her!”_ and _“There has to be a catch!_ ” into her mind. This is just nice. It has been a while since her stomach has hurt this much just from laughing, and April does not want to question it right now.

All she knows is that the girl opposite her makes her smile; that she’s funny and smart and a bit weird, and she likes reading, peaches and her rude twin. And April really wants to keep talking with her about any or none of those. She tries to backtrack what they were talking about before peaches, and remembers the textbook on her table and that she was supposed to be preparing for a school quiz.

April gives Sterling a curious glance. _Let’s see_. “Hey, what’s the capital of North Dakota?”

“Bismarck,” comes the instant response.

April groans. “Of course it is! That shouldn’t have been difficult. Do you know this stupid feeling…”

“…when you know something and you _know_ you know it and it’s just on the tip of your tongue, but you just can’t get it?” Sterling says.

“Exactly.” April drums her fingers on the table in annoyance and in the process she notices the watch on her wrist. And the time. Recess is almost over already.

Disappointment settles heavily in April’s stomach. Deciding to blame it on her lacking general knowledge, she mutters, “Frick, it’s been too long since I practised this.”

“Do you want me to quiz you?”

“Thanks, but we have to be in class in five minutes.”

“Problem?” Sterling gets up, grabbing her _Pride and Prejudice_ copy and stuffing it back into her backpack. “I don’t actually know where the trig room is, but we can probably get in 20 states plus capitals or so on the way.”

April finds herself staring at Sterling again. “Are you saying you know them all by heart?!”

“No.” Sterling gives an embarrassed shrug. “But I should be able to scrape together 20.”

“You better,” April comments, but secretly she is delighted. She is beginning to realize the possibilities of having someone other than Hannah B. to practise with. Hannah doesn’t lack enthusiasm for her subjects, but, to be frank, often she is just not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

(Even Sarah wasn’t ideal to study with: while clever and witty (and beautiful), she was never a very organized person; something that caused some irritation on April’s part, but she never brought it up.)

 _No. We’re not thinking of that. Focus_.

Sterling doesn’t seem like the epitome of organization either, but she’s a far cry from the chaotic middle schooler April first pegged her as. Plus, she’s easy to talk to and doesn’t ask questions why April preferred to sit by herself. This she can work with.

They don’t quite get to 20 states by the time they enter the classroom, but it’s close. The room is next to empty. Without discussing it, the two of them slide into two neighbouring seats near the front. Sterling pulls out her book, arranges her pens next to it and then leans over to April to spring a surprise “What’s the population of Alaska?” on her.

April gives the correct answer for the nineteenth time in a row, earning herself an impressed noise from the blonde. “Wow, you’re smart,” Sterling states, resting her chin on her hands and looking up at April like she just won the Nobel Prize.

“I try,” April grins proudly. “But you know, you’re actually kind of smart, too.”

“Don’t say that so surprised!” Sterling complains.

“Sorry,” April apologizes and hastes to add, “I just – I don’t know, just didn’t expect it? You know, from first impressions and all. Not that you looked stupid or anything, just…” She uncharacteristically fumbles for her words.

“Just…what?” Sterling has her arms crossed, but her expression is teasing.

April groans. “Let’s just drop it, okay? Forget anything I said about first impressions. Oh, I can already see the teacher approaching!”

Sterling shrugs. “First impressions are liars, anyways.”

 _Apparently they are_.

* * *

It’s almost bizarre how quickly they slide into a routine.

On day one, Sterling and her talk about books and grades and languages – all topics sparked by something in school; nothing too personal.

On day two, they exchange challenging glares as they try to one-up the other in raising their hands before the teachers have even finished formulating their tasks – one obnoxious boy in the back calls Sterling a ‘teacher’s pet’, before squirming uncomfortably in his seat for the rest of the lesson while April gives him the withering stare she has perfected at summer camp.

On day three, they almost miss the start of third period after spending every minute of recess discussing _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_ , and from there move on to parents, church and favourite colours – Sterling’s is blood-red, which should be creepy given the amount of enthusiasm with which she tells April, but somehow isn’t.

“Why _blood_ -red?” April demands as they’re all gathering around the bike racks after school. “Why not sunset-red or auburn? Both are nice colours without the grizzly connotation.”

“It’s not grizzly! Blood has such a bad rep, seriously. We’re all so horrified when we actually get to see it, like it isn’t what makes our bodies function. Not that I like to bleed or anything, I just happen to think that it looks, I don’t know, _full_ compared to other colours…”

Sterling keeps going, unaware of the endeared smile on April’s lips as she watches her ramble on. Sterling has abandoned the braid and is wearing her hair open now, which honestly suits her so much better in April’s opinion, but it does get in the way when she starts gesturing and flinging her hands all over the place. Which, as April has quickly learned, she does all the time, especially when she’s passionate about something.

“…and anyway, who looks at _black_ of all things and says ‘ _Yep,_ you’re _my favourite colour!’_ That’s like saying your favourite direction is down.”

“Who even has a favourite direction?”

“Anyone who goes into politics,” Ezekiel contributes. “And Harry Styles.”

April gives him a look that makes him shrug his shoulders in that awkwardly unapologetic way that he has. He allows, “Though, I guess they are two directions now.”

Ezekiel is someone who April probably wouldn’t have exchanged ten words with over the course of their entire school career, if it weren’t for happenstance. April and Sterling (and Blair, because the two of them are annoyingly attached at the hip) were just looking for the fourth member of their Forensics team when she noticed that that lanky guy with the metal leg was about to partner up with Hannah S. of all people. What can April say; her rescue instinct kicked in. Hannah B. might confuse Washington D.C. with Washington State on her best days, but at least _she_ doesn’t struggle to identify the US on a world map.

April can’t say she regrets her rescue. Ezekiel has a weird vibe about him like he doesn’t take any of this all that seriously, which is both refreshing and deeply disturbing to someone like April. Plus, he is literally the only thing standing between them and a cliché middle school girls’ clique at the moment, so he is basically contractually obligated to stick around.

“Do not even joke about that!” Sterling whines in response to his comment. “I’m still heartbroken!”

“There, there,” Blair soothes, patting her back comfortingly. “It’s going to be okay. I know it hurts, but you’ll be able to move on in time.”

Hannah B.’s eyes grow to the size of saucers and she lets out a gasp. “Did someone die?!”

“He might as well have,” Sterling mutters dejectedly and lets her head drop into her arms.

April rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so melodramatic,” she scolds her new friend. Then she switches to her reassuring voice: “No one died, Hannah. Sterling is just way too invested in the fate of one stupid boyband.”

“They were perfect with Zayn, okay? I liked him.”

Blair leans over and whispers none-too-quietly, “Translation: she had the biggest crush on him.”

“Still do,” Sterling corrects, sad voice muffled through her sweater.

That elicits a scoff from April, because honestly. “Get over it, Wesley. I’m sure there are going to come many more pretty singers you can moon over.”

Sterling stays in her cradled position, with Blair now at her side and patting her back again. The brunette catches April’s eyes and explains, very seriously, “Grief takes time, girl. Give her some space.”

April shoots her a suspicious look, searching for some veiled insult in the comment, but unable to find one. It has sent her one edge all day: for some reason Blair is not being nearly as abrasive/hostile towards her the third time around, and April doesn’t quite know how to deal with this. She has the suspicion that Sterling asked her sister to be nice to her, which is very sweet of her, but also, April doesn’t need any defending.

So she continues to argue, “Whatever is this general obsession with boybands about, anyway? It’s not like pairing up four precocious teens who happen to have a Y-chromosome automatically nets you good music.”

That statement makes both Sterling and Blair look at her, Sterling finally lifting her face out of her sweater to do so. By the look on her face, her emotional state has rapidly shifted from dejected to personally offended without any stages in between. “Me and One Direction would like to disagree with you!” she states.

“Imagine Dragons as well,” Blair adds.

“Coldplay.”

“BTS,” Ezekiel contributes.

Blair gives him an appreciative look. “Nice. Let me add Maroon 5 for guilty pleasure.”

April shrugs her shoulders, going for provocatively disinterested. “They all sound the same to me.”

Cue offended gasps from the people around her, none louder than Ezekiel’s. “They _so_ do not, girl!” he protests.

“I’m going to pretend you never said this!”

“That is the most dismissive attitude I’ve ever encountered, and I’ve read the Old Testament!”

April laughs at their outrage, dropping the act. “Well, cards are on the table now. Either accept me with my heretical views or forever brand me as an outcast, because I’m not gonna change.” She adds in a stage-whisper, “Though I will point out that that would be the pettiest reason for excommunication since Gregor VII.”

Sterling’s wide eyes blink at her. Again they are shining with this this odd mix of confusion and sparkling humour that involuntarily makes April smile. “I’m going to pretend I understood that reference and just nod my head Yes,” Sterling tells her. “Also, of course we’re not going to outcast you. I think we’ve moved past the age of branding women, physically or otherwise.”

“Is that your way of saying you forgive me for my unforgivable taste in music?” April prods with undisguised sarcasm.

Blair waves her off. "You’re fine, heretic. Outside of a few overlaps, Sterl and I have wildly different tastes in music as well, and we've managed not to kill each other so far."

Sterling nods emphatically. "TV shows, too. I love Big Bang Theory, but Blair hates it."

"Hate is a strong word. Let's say polite disinterest."

"Bad enough. How about actors? What kind of person would honestly deny that Brad Pitt is still hot at 50?"

"Yuck!" Blair shudders, as if the very thought is appalling.

“Divided on songs, entertainment, VIPs…” April sums up, drawing an imaginary wall between the two of them. “You know, for twins you don’t even _look_ that alike.”

They look at her in unison, which is very much a twin thing, and one that April still hasn’t gotten used to yet. Sterling’s expression is almost hurt, while Blair’s is plainly dismayed. The brunette twin puts a hand on her hip and declares, “That’s offensive.”

 _Frick, is it really?_ April flushes bright red. Since she was eight years old, she has made it her personal mission never to say anything offensive to anybody, because that is not Christian and also simply not okay. She tries to mitigate the damage: “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean… It’s not like I hang around twins much, so I didn’t know… Actually, there are _definitely_ similarities…”

“Stevens,” Blair interrupts her, and – too late – April sees the amused twitch in the corner of her mouth. “Relax. It’s a joke.”

April forcefully shuts her mouth and glares at her. “You don’t joke about something like that!”

“Clearly you don’t know twin rules that well,” Blair smirks. “We joke about everything. But you are forgiven, since you don’t hang around our kind very much.”

“Quit teasing her!” Sterling tells her off, flicking Blair’s earlobe.

Blair immediately pounces on her for revenge, and it devolves into a scuffle. It’s only been three days, but in those three days April has already gotten used to this, so she doesn’t intervene. She watches the twins go at it and thinks about making a comment about them obviously being stuck in kindergarten, but decides to shelf it for later.

Not for the first time she finds herself wondering what it would be like to have a sister. She’s fine with being a single child, of course: her parents love her and there’s no one she has to compete with for their affection. And April could never be as silly with anybody as these two are around each other, nor would she want to. She wouldn’t even know what to do with a sibling, now that she thinks about it. Her novels are full of siblings who fall out and fight each other to the death. Sometimes literally. No thank you.

Still, as April looks at Sterling gasping from Blair tickling her, it does seem kind of fun.

She notices Hannah B. tugging at her sleeve to get her attention, and April reluctantly turns to her. Her friend’s eyes are trained on something behind April’s shoulder, and her face wears a look somewhere between excited and intimidated. “There’s a girl looking at us,” she informs April quietly.

April turns around, frowning. At first she can’t see what Hannah is referring to. Then April’s gaze catches on a figure by the trees, and she freezes. She recognizes the too-small blue jacket and the blonde ponytails immediately.

Sarah Manson is standing in the school’s driveway and sticking out like a sore thumb. At least it feels that way to April. And Hannah was correct; she is indeed looking over to them.

April stares at her and their gazes meet. Everything that April has almost managed not to think about over the last three days comes rushing back to her all at once and she, conflictingly, finds herself wanting to both stalk towards her former friend to give her a mouthful, or to run as fast as she can in the opposite direction.

Fight or flight. In her own self-image, April has always considered herself more of a _reach-a-compromise-but-fight-as-a-second-option_ person – but now she blanks. Not a word of the perfect monologue she has crafted for Sarah comes to mind. That just leaves the option to forgo formalities and yell at her, but April can’t do that here with the other watching. She can feel herself starting to panic. Quickly excusing herself to the restroom won’t fly, since she only just went before Spanish. Not to mention that she would rather die than let Sarah see her beat a retreat.

Then April remembers that Sarah isn’t worth any of those responses, anyway. Sarah has made it very clear that she is moving on, so it’s about time she sees that April is doing the same. She quickly turns to Sterling. “Act like I said something funny!” she whispers.

Sterling blinks at her, confused. “You said something weird,” she clarifies.

“Just do it!” April hisses.

Sterling looks at her for another second before throwing her head back and letting out a loud laugh. It’s a bright and full-bellied laugh, quickly taking over the rest of her body. Sterling wipes at her eyes and giggles, her entire torso shaking. To her credit, it looks remarkably sincere. April forgets for a second why she even asked and stares at Sterling. Does she practise that in the mirror? A girl in a Christian, Georgian middle school can’t possibly actually be this joyful, right?

However she did it, it does do the job of making it seem like April had just told a thigh-slapping joke. April wants to turn around to see if it had an effect on her former friend, but she doesn’t. That would give the game away.

She tries hard to ignore the growing hollow feeling in her stomach. Somehow this doesn’t feel as powerful as she had hoped. If she actually had a real friendship to show off, she wouldn’t have to use Sterling like this. It’s incredibly petty. April feels like a fraud, and she is overcome with the wish that it weren’t fake; that she could actually make the other girl laugh like that. Sarah can probably see right through her; she always could…

“Oh dear,” Sterling gasps next to her, having finally stopped giggling. Thankfully unaware of April’s thought process, she lets out a long breath to calm down. Then she asks, “What am I laughing about?”

“You tell me,” April deflects. “That sounded convincing.”

“Oh, I just thought of that time Blair ate her toothbrush. Always works.”

April snorts, forgetting for a moment to feel like a fraud: “Come again?”

The other twin’s indignant outcry happens almost simultaneously. “It was _one time_ , you traitor!” Blair wedges in between them to shake her fists threateningly in Sterling’s face. “You don’t see _me_ telling everyone about your disgusting love of chocolate-topped crisps.”

“You just did.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“…you really think it’s disgusting?”

“Of course not, sis; I would never harp on your taste buds. I just couldn’t think of a comeback that fast.”

“Really? What about the movie night where I…”

“…stumbled into the charger and your hair stood up for, like, ten minutes? You’re right, that _is_ a good one!”

The twins high-five.

April has been looking back and forth between the two of them like it was a ping-pong match, and now her neck hurts. She glances at Hannah B., who smiles brightly, and then at Ezekiel, who gives a confused shrug. Good to know April isn’t the only one who hasn’t gotten used to this twin-thing yet.

Sterling sends her a somewhat embarrassed shrug. “Chargers are evil,” she says by way of explanation.

“Chocolate-topped crisps?” April prompts, both curious and disgusted.

Sterling’s eyes light up. “I know, I know, but you gotta try it!”

Whatever else one could say about Sterling, she certainly has the ability to distract. April is just taking her in, trying to decide whether to frown or laugh, when Ezekiel taps her on the shoulder and whispers, “Incoming. Six a clock.”

April turns around and Sarah is already standing there, four feet away and posture tense. Her eyes meet April's and her jaw works for a moment before she says, "Hey."

April straightens, drawing on her years of church experience in sticking to formalities. "Hi," she returns neutrally.

Sarah sends a wary glance towards Sterling and the others. "Can we talk?"

"We are talking."

Sarah rolls her eyes in a silent 'really?'; an achingly familiar gesture. "Privately, April."

 _Privately_. The prospect fills April with a strange mix of anger, sorrow and dread. Anger, because Sarah says it so casually, as if she were entitled to April’s time. Sorrow, because she used to cherish every minute the two of them could spend alone together, before. Dread, because April is no longer sure if she’ll be able to keep her composure now that Sarah is physically in front of her, as much as she tries to tell herself that she is _April Stevens_ and _Yes, she can_. This is not how she envisioned this. If this conversation with her former friend was to happen at all, April had been determined to have it be on her terms; not here and not now.

But it’s fine. It’s not like April hasn’t prepared for this. So she gives Sarah a curt nod and aims to give the others an apologetic smile and a quick, “Excuse me for a moment.”

Then April’s gaze reaches Sterling and she falters. The other girl’s eyes have turned even wider than usual. She is looking between April and Sarah with some concern, as if she could tell how very much April does not want to have this conversation.

April swallows and tries her best to look casual as she turns around to follow Sarah.

Sarah walks almost all the way back to the school gates before she turns around. Which is fine by April, because at least now they are definitely out of earshot. She positions herself with her back to the school and meets Sarah’s amber eyes, having to look up slightly to do so. Sarah has always been taller than her, but while that used to make April smile before, it only frustrates her now.

Sarah gives a nod to the others behind them. "I see you've settled in alright."

"Yes, I have."

“Who’s the blonde? The one you were laughing with.”

“Sterling,” April says, and she can’t resist adding, “She’s cool.”

“Ah.”

There's an uncomfortable silence. Sarah is visibly struggling, her face scrunching up in the way it does when she's trying to work out what to say. April has plenty to say, but she certainly isn't going to be the one to start. That is incumbent on Sarah.

Finally Sarah says, "I'm leaving in two weeks."

"Yes, so you told me," April replies.

"What I'm saying is; I don't want to leave things the way they are now."

" _You_ are the reason things are the way they are now," April says sharply. "I'm not the one leaving the fricking state."

Sarah grimaces. "I had no idea that me telling you that would lead to this. I didn't think you'd take it that badly."

"How was I _supposed_ to take it?"

"I thought you'd be happy for me."

That makes April burst out with a humourless laugh. She makes a cut-off gesture with her hands, which comes out more guillotine-like than she intended: “You know what, you’re right. I’m happy for you. Just go off to California or whatever. It’s not like you’re leaving behind anything worthwhile.”

April watches Sarah’s expression change, the hard line on her brow transforming into something softer and more like _before_ , which only makes April’s stomach boil with new anger. “April…” Her former friend lifts her arm as if to reach out to her, before clearly thinking better of it and letting it drop again. “This is nothing against _you_.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear,” April bites back. “Nice to know I mean so little to your considerations.”

Sarah makes a vague noise of protest. “Look, I don’t wanna do this,” she says, her throat working around the words. “This is exactly how our last talk went south, and I – I don’t want to drive you away, okay?

“Then why?!” it bursts out of April. She can’t even bring herself to narrow it down and just repeats, “Why?”

“It wasn’t all my decision. My father got offered a better job over there – like, a really good one; he’s been talking about this for years. I could hardly say no to him.”

“Bull droppings. You were _happy_ about it.”

Sarah shakes her head. “At first I reacted like you. I was angry and – actually, I was terrified. It was such a sudden change.” Her amber eyes meet April’s, with the same intensity that Sarah has always had. “But then in the days afterwards I thought about it and – well, I kept thinking that it would be nice to live in a town and go to a school where no one knows me, you know? Where there are more than two people who look like me. And fewer than seven different kinds of uncreative nicknames being thrown after me in the hallways.”

April starts to fidget uncomfortably with her bracelet, suddenly finding herself on the defensive. “You’re over-exaggerating; it’s not that bad,” she manages, feeling like a liar before the last syllable has even left her tongue.

Sarah chuckles at that. She raises her chin, in a gesture that April has long suspected is meant to further emphasize the eastern slant to her eyes. “Keep believing that, white girl. You’re worst nickname is ‘April Fool’s’.”

“Creativity was never a priority at Wilmington.”

Sarah’s lips twitch upwards ever so slightly, almost smiling. “Truth.”

April forces herself to look her in the eye. “I never called you names,” she says quietly.

“I know you don’t. You’re one of a select few there. But April – that’s just not enough.”

“It could have been!”

Sarah shakes her head No and it makes her ponytails swing from side to side. April’s gaze catches on the movement, remembering how she used to re-braid those ponytails whenever they would have a sleepover, and how it always made Sarah giggle. April’s heart clenches painfully and the words escape her before she can even fully process them: “But now we’re never going to know what we could have been, since you’re not staying to find out. Because… what; because some irrelevant idiots are mean to you on occasion? You’re not ‘making a decision’; you’re just giving up.”

Sarah bristles. There are few things that can rile her up as much as being called a coward. “If that is your take, fine. I prefer to think of it as choosing not to waste my energy fighting battles that aren’t worth it.”

In some distant part of her conscious, April knows that Sarah didn’t mean that in the way April’s mind immediately interprets it. But that distant part can’t get signals through to her mouth: “Oh. Okay, that’s great, then. Good to know you won’t have to _waste your energy_ pretending to be my friend anymore, isn’t it?”

Sarah blinks at her, at a loss for words for a brief moment. Then she exclaims, “For God’s sake, April; can’t you understand that I’m not doing this to spite you?!”

“You’re doing a good job making it seem like that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

Sarah makes an exasperated gesture. "April, I'm suffocating here! It’s not all sunshine and rainbows as you for some reason like to pretend it is. Frankly, I don’t know how you can stand it.”

April can feel her heart drop into her stomach with irrational fear. Her fingers dig into her arms, in need of something to hold onto. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on. Don’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it would be like to live in proper, modern America. I respect Jesus and the lot, too, but I doubt every one of their wisdoms was meant for the day of the internet. Our teachers are so backwards it’s a miracle they haven’t become stuck in their own arses yet. Even our parents – particularly yours, by the way – it’s like half of them has arrived in the 2020s and the other half is fucking stuck in the 1820s. Or somewhere in that timeframe. You know what I’m saying.”

Sarah only starts to use curse words when she’s both sure about and very pissed off at something. April has always found this a little alarming, while at the same time sort of admiring her friend’s boldness. But this particular _something_ hits too close to home; it brings up issues that April has conditioned herself not to think about. She crosses her arms and lets her face morph into the disapproving sneer she has learned from daddy: “I know what you’re saying. So, what’s next? You’re going to leave church and just make your own rules since you’re apparently so damn good at that? Join a liberal debate club and hand out abortion flyers on the streets?”

Sarah has never looked at April the way she does then.

It’s not shock or even anger anymore; it’s open disgust. There is a hostility in that look that makes April flinch back before she gets her body under control. Sarah takes a step towards her, shrinking the space between them to nigh zero, and stabs a finger to April’s chest, “You,” she says, “have no right to presume anything about me. My faith does not rely on a binary choice between blindly following rules and worshipping Satan himself, and if yours does, then I _pity you_. Yes, I am going to draw my own conclusions, and if you actually listened to a word I said to you over the last few years, you would understand that that is not a bad thing. But I guess you didn’t. I thought your father was the vile one in your family.” Sarah scoffs and stabs at April’s chest a second time. "For your information; there's a difference between following the Bible and letting your life be ruled by some old white men’s twisted interpretation of it 2000 years down the line.”

April bats her hand away, furious. “Oh, but _you’re_ fit to interpret it, right? Because that doesn’t make life easy at all.”

“At least I can question things. You never could.”

Sarah has no idea how much April has started to question recently; most of all about herself. She snaps, “At least I’m not ripping out all my roots and ruining my life. _For your information_ ; there are studies on how teenagers settle in their new schools after moving. They fall into depression, become drug addicts and a significant percentage doesn’t make it to college.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Sarah scoffs. “And I’m beginning to think that we have very different ideas of what a ruined life looks like, April.”

“We have very different ideas about a lot of things, apparently. If you can call what you have ‘ideas’. Honestly, I pity you.”

“Oh, you pity me, is that right?”

“You’re like the Jedi Council; acting all high and mighty while having absolutely no clue what you’re doing.”

“Have you looked in the mirror recently, April?”

“I have, and what I’m seeing is a confident, good Christian who has found her place and is _not_ about to throw her whole life away.”

“Yeah, nice job finding your place which you were born into,” Sarah sneers. “You were always better at that. Doing as you're told.”

April’s derisive laugh gets stuck in her throat. “I wish you _were_ better at that, Sarah. Then I’d tell you to unpack your bags right now! I wish I could get it through your head what you’re leaving behind, running off on me like this! You are so blind!”

“Oh, that is very April. You always have to make everything about yourself. As if I had to orientate my every decision after what you deem right. Let me be clear: _I don’t belong_ _to you!_ I’m free to do with my life what I want, and if you don’t agree with my choices then that’s your problem.”

April flinches. That statement shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. She’s always known that Sarah was somewhat of a free spirit, liable to go her own way and make her own decisions – and April was fine with that! Somehow it just never occurred to her that Sarah might openly decide _against_ _her_.

“And you have problems, better believe it. Yeah, I said some things I’m not proud of, too, but at least I was trying to make it right, while you’re being… _this_! I really thought our friendship meant more to you.”

And this is against her, no matter how much this conversation has ostensibly been about faith. It isn’t; not for April. It’s about the person whom April… _cared_ _about,_ more than anyone else in the world… about that person breaking away from her. And despite trying to tell herself the contrary, April knows that it’s at least partly her fault, because she’s cared too much. Again.

“Unless I’m missing something? Was your calling me a _false friend_ just some fucked up April-way of showing affection? Or your refusing to even speak to me or write back once? I thought you were better than that.” Sarah takes a deep breath, her eyes turning steely. “You can pretend all you want, but it was _you_ who kicked our friendship into the dirt, not me.”

April feels like she might break apart at any second. She wants to hate the girl standing in front of her, and in some ways she does. But then there's a part of her that wants to grab a hold of Sarah and tell her not to go. To tell her that she’s sorry. To tell her how much she still means to April, and that April would tear down all of California if that made Sarah stay.

Except, April knows how things end when she reacts like that. How the expressions on other girls’ faces turn at best confused and scared, and at worst openly hostile. So she can't say it. She can’t say anything. She wishes a hole could just open up beneath her and swallow her whole.

Sarah draws closer still, face rapidly shifting towards annoyance. "Nothing? Since when does April Stevens become speechless? Say something!"

From behind April, a voice says, "Leave her alone."

Sarah's searching eyes finally leave April as she looks past her. An indecipherable look passes over her face. "Oh, you. Did she hire you as her bodyguard or something?"

"Do I look like I could bodyguard? Genuine question; I've never really considered it. But you're bullying my friend."

"Your _friend_." Sarah says the word like it's something ugly she wants to get off her tongue. "I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you. And if you think this is bullying, you must have never been bullied. I was trying to have an adult conversation with April..."

Sterling cuts in, "And she clearly doesn't want to converse adultly with you, so: leave her alone. Have you never heard of consent?"

Sarah bristles. Finally she steps away from April and April draws in a shaky breath, coming unstuck from her paralysis. For the first time since this conversation started, she manages to tear her eyes away from Sarah and turn around. Sterling is closer than she thought. She is staring at Sarah with a look of deep dislike on her face. By her sides, her hands are balled into fists and she looks like a coil ready to snap. It’s not threatening, exactly – April can’t see herself ever viewing the other girl like that – but it does communicate her allegiances well enough.

April was never one to rely on other people. Firstly, because she is smart and strong enough to stand on her own two feet, thank you very much, and secondly, because other people are so often unreliable. In that moment, however, her mind makes a semi-conscious decision to trust Sterling. To rely on her not backing down, or worse, backing away from April. There is nothing she can rationally base this trust on, other than that uncharacteristically determined look on the other girl’s normally smiley face. Clenched fists and the memory of a dopey smile; that’s it.

It’s what gives April the strength to pull her mask back in place and what makes her voice come out steady when she faces Sarah and says, “Sterling is right. I think we’re done here. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Sarah’s have narrowed to slits, looking between the two of them. The look she gives April seems to hold more disappointed than anger. She lets out a long breath, straightening up. “Just like that, huh?”

April cocks her head. “Unless there’s something more you want to add?” she asks, not even taunting, but disinterested.

Sarah stares at her for a long moment. Maybe she’s looking for something, or searching for a weak spot, but this time April’s façade holds. Finally, Sarah looks away. “No, I guess there isn’t. Goodbye, April.”

Pulling her too-small jacket tighter around herself, she starts down the driveway. Suddenly her figure looks smaller than she did five minutes ago. April watches her leave, and for once in her life she doesn’t know what to feel.

Her body has almost started to relax when, suddenly, Sarah spins back around. “Actually, yes there is,” she announces hotly. She is addressing Sterling now, not April. “I don’t know who you are or how you met April, but you seem like a genuine person. So, for your own sake, don’t get too attached to her. She has this obsession with getting things her way, and if they don’t, she snaps. Stay close to her and you’re going to get burned.” Sarah casts one final look at April and gives a mirthless laugh: “Good luck to both of you.”

April watches her disappear down the driveway, feeling empty. She can’t even muster the emotional capacity to feel sad. It’s too abrupt. The tears will come later, she knows, hopefully when she’s alone. She couldn’t handle Sterling seeing her like that on top of everything else. The other girl has already seen and heard plenty. Perhaps she has just lost two people she cared about in one fell swoop, April thinks tiredly.

Then Sterling clears her throat and declares, "She didn't seem fun."

April gives a shaky laugh. "No. No she is not," she manages.

She jumps when she feels Sterling's hand slip into hers. There was no warning, and April just stops herself from instinctively flinching away. Sterling interlocks their fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world, like matching puzzle pieces. It’s the first time they have really touched, and April blames it on her emotional state that it makes her heartbeat stutter. Yet again Sterling caught her off guard and April should really be annoyed with her for that, she reminds herself.

Maybe once she’s had a moment to properly gather herself.

“So, about that,” the blonde starts. Her voice is still light, as if she hadn’t just witnessed and actively helped April forcefully shutting a whole chapter of her life. She gives April a nudge that feels almost playful: “Just for the record, I could handle your always getting your own way, if that is what you want. Blair is the headstrong twin; I’m more the reasonable one.”

A breath of air escapes April’s lips; almost a laugh. “I’ll shelf that ridiculous claim for later argument. I’m not some control freak, though, if that’s what you gathered.” She forces her body to turn, meeting the other girl’s eyes. She’d love to just brush this whole thing off and move on, but Sterling doesn’t deserve that. “But she was right about one thing. I- I can be a bit – a bit much, I guess. A bit too hard-headed, a bit too emotional, a bit too much of a smartass… that sort of thing.”

There are no reservations in the smile Sterling sends her way in response. She says, “I think it’s awesome.”

April doesn’t think Sterling really gets it, but she also can’t find it in herself to argue with that hopeful smile. Instead, she raises a lecturing finger and echoes, “Don’t get too attached to me!”

She was aiming for sarcastic, but it ends up coming out raw.

Sterling shakes her head and pointedly holds up their linked hands. “Pretty sure we’re already attached,” she points out.

Like April’s warning, it has the cadence of a joke, but there’s something softer underneath. It makes April turn her head away, because if she doesn’t, she might just forgo her resolution and start to cry here and now.

The other girl’s fingers squeeze hers. "Do you want to talk about it?" Sterling inquires, and it’s a genuine question without prodding.

April shakes her head No. "Please just do something goofy or tell a bad joke, or something." _Distract me_.

Sterling grins. "That's my specialty."

"I know," April replies, and finally she can smile back at the other girl. As Sterling finally lets go of her hand and starts talking about something cute their baby dog did that morning, April silently tags on another plea: _Please don’t break my heart_.

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized I posted this on Valentine's day. Swear to God, that was not intended, but it seems appropriate xD


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